


Death by a Thousand Cuts

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EXPLICIT SELF HARM, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Suicidal Draco Malfoy, accidental suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Draco Malfoy takes a bad habit a little too far.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 145





	Death by a Thousand Cuts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I cannot stress this enough: IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED OR MADE UNCOMFORTABLE BY BLOOD, SELF-HARM, SUICIDE, AND IMPLIED ALCOHOLISM/ ALCOHOL ABUSE, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. IT IS TAGGED AS EXPLICIT FOR A REASON. IT IS CALLED "DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS" FOR A REASON. IT'S GRAPHIC AND SAD AND I'M SORRY.

Draco had changed after the war, everyone could see it. But they only saw the surface. Nobody knew that he tried to chase his dark thoughts away with firewhiskey everyday, that he was scared of the nightmares that came in his sleep. 

He lay in his bed, sweating and trembling. Draco had made a habit of sleeping during the day, waking only for dinner, and then drinking heavily until he passed out. Though they often weren’t as bad during the day as they were at night, a nightmare had draped its darkness on yet another dream, forcing him to open his eyes well before he’d planned to. _I can’t take this anymore,_ Draco thought as he made his way to the bathroom.

It wasn’t the first time he had cut himself. Razors had already left their many scars all over Draco’s arms, especially around his dark mark. It had faded when the Dark Lord died, but it was still there. It was still a reminder of his mistakes. 

The metal dug into his forearm softly at first, then harder and harder as Draco watched the blood trickle down his arm. It gave him a strange sense of relief, the sight of his blood. After all he had and hadn’t done, he was still human. _Human or not, you deserve this_. Draco raised the blade to the light that streamed in from his window. His blood was a dark crimson, thick and runny at the same time. 

He gave a small sigh, then let the blade sink into his skin again. And again. And again. Soon, both of his arms were slick, his dark mark completely covered by drying blood. Draco felt physically weak, but mentally powerful. He had finally erased his past. He stared at his arms in an emotion that felt somewhat like admiration. _I am truly myself again._ Draco’s heart was racing. _This is a new beginning._

“Draco?” His mother’s voice rang through the manor. “Dinner’s nearly ready!”

Maybe he replied, maybe he didn’t. Draco was sweating profusely. _This is wrong._ He tried to scoop up his blood, to shove it back into his veins. When he found that not to work, he climbed into the bathtub and let the water run over his arms. He’d cut deeper than he meant to, and more as well. Draco was naturally a pale boy, but his skin was so white he could blend in with snow without even trying to. 

He didn’t remember the headache coming in. It just arrived in one moment. A loud noise rang in his ears as he tried to get up, without success. The room was spinning. Draco thought he could hear his mother’s voice again, calling him down for dinner. He tried to register what she was saying, but his senses were failing him. He began to lose his vision as he desperately tried to regain enough strength to get up and out of his bathtub. And then Draco slipped out of consciousness.

~~~

Narcissa grew annoyed when she had to call her son down a second time. A thud was heard, and she and Lucius exchanged a look. They were both aware that Draco had been drinking heavily since the war, but he never did so if he still had to face his parents. He tried to keep it a secret, but when Narcissa had come to see if he was sleeping one night, she found his bedroom reeking of alcohol and vomit.

“Go check on him, will you?” Lucius asked gently. He himself had a past of alcohol abuse, it made it difficult for him to see his son drunk.

Narcissa pushed away from the table and began to walk towards Draco’s room. A shiver ran up her spine like the blade of a sword as fear settled in her mind. _He would never drink before dinner,_ she told herself, clenching her hands into fists in a feeble attempt to make them stop shaking. She knocked on the bedroom door. “Draco?”

No response.

Narcissa pushed the door open. His bed was unmade and empty. The door to his bathroom, however, was open. _That’s odd,_ Narcissa thought. _Draco always shuts the bathroom door._ She slowly made her way over to the open door. “I’m coming in, love, I hope you’re decent,” She said before peeking inside.

Her heart dropped when she saw him. 

“Draco!” Narcissa sobbed. Her sorrow echoed through the halls. She could her rapid footsteps in the distance, her husband's probably. She stumbled over to where her son lay in his bathtub, covered in blood. Narcissa tried everything to bring him back. She shook him, she screamed his name, she poured water over his head, but his pulse was long gone. At some point Lucius came barging in and rushed straight for their child. They held him together, like they did when he was a baby. Draco _was_ still their baby, their baby boy. But he wasn't. He was a dead man now, died of a thousand cuts.


End file.
